


Reminiscence

by Chamomile



Series: A Moment in Time [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamomile/pseuds/Chamomile
Summary: “…I seem to recall a night not unlike this one, five years ago…with a certain acquaintance of mine,” the familiar voice tells her; her eyes shoot open to see the Roegadyn by her side, her wish granted, her dire need for a memory vanished. (Part of the 'Moment in Time' series, takes place right after the events of patch 2.3)





	Reminiscence

Five bells past midnight; Gridania stirs. The fireflies who’ve made it through the night brighten and dim through the wood, finding a place to hide in the seemingly endless foliage. Dawn creeps into the edges of the sky, the carpenters prepare themselves for the long day ahead, the leatherworkers rouse themselves from their beds to do just the same. The lancers and archers and conjurers yet sleep, but their time will come, just a bell or two away, and they, too, will face another morning. Another, run-of-the-mill, Gridanian morning. Or so they think.

Few in the city-state know that there is something wrong with this picture. For, not so far away, while the disciples of war and magic sleep, so, too, does the Lord of Levin. The whispers have been circulating for some time now—perhaps a fortnight—but few know the truth of his awakening and slumber, his defeat. The Twelveswood is as peaceful as it has ever been, they say.

The problem, however, is that those of the Twelveswood do not hear the fell whispers on the winds, the charged words and hisses by hidden spirits, waiting to tell their tales of the battle between Light and Levin to the first who will hear it, the one who hears all voices of the forest…the one who has been pacing about the perimeter of the Lotus Stand for the entirety of the night, whose chest tightens more and more with each new tale she hears from each enlightened elemental brave enough to reveal itself on the wind. Her breaths become heavy and uneasy. She attempts to focus, to gain her composure back and meditate on the nature that surrounds her rather than dwelling on fears and memories that eat away at any thoughts of a peaceful slumber…

In any other case, she would feel liberated without the watchful eyes and inquiries of her personal guard regarding her health. They left at midnight, and when they did, the shackles holding her to the Lotus Stand grew stronger; she becomes the only one to hear the voices. She has no one to speak of it with after the spirits flutter away, back into their hiding places within the boughs…and so carries the words with her, despite how sharply they etch into her very being. She stares into the coming dawn, and finds herself in a place in her thoughts she never wanted to return to.

She shuts her eyes if only for a moment. She hopes to feel some semblance of drowsiness, but it never does come. No, all that does is rouse an image from her memory, locked away for five years until now…A barely-rebuilt vision of this place, a sunrise…and another soul with her: the last person she expected to see there.

The memory comes undone as she opens her eyes. She has grown since then. She is not the same person she was in that memory…She will handle it on her own. She is the Elder Seedseer, after all…expected, motivated to take it all in on her own and speak not of it to her people, lest they spiral into the same unease that has overcome her.

A thought wanders in—perhaps she should put her emotions on paper, to cope with them all, to turn them tangible? Yes, that would be ideal, were her hands not trembling so. She tires of pacing, and of standing, as well, and wonders if she’ll simply run herself ragged as she often did back then. The guards will find her a few bells from now passed out on one of the chairs, and she will be given a chance to rest…If her heart ever stops its nervous beating.

…Or, was it beating faster because she felt a presence growing behind her? She cannot say. It is not a malevolent presence, and yet she refuses to look behind, out of fear of disappointment, that the person behind her is not the one she wants there so dearly. She decides to shut her eyes again, thinking that perhaps doing so will bring her back into that memory, and that the presence will be the same as it was five years prior.

It speaks to her quietly, so as not to startle the Padjal:

“…I seem to recall a night not unlike this one, five years ago…with a certain acquaintance of mine,” the familiar voice tells her; her eyes shoot open to see the Roegadyn by her side, her wish granted, her dire need for a memory vanished.

For a second, she has no words, and wonders if she’s hallucinating from a lack of sleep. In truth, she could not care less; real or imagined, it spoke just like the Admiral, gave off the same aura, the same gentle scent of roses and lilybells, of faraway seas, and the slightest bit of bloodshed.

“Pray enlighten me,” the Padjal looks to the ground as a smile—a genuine, tiny smile escapes her, “What became of her–of your acquaintance? Recall you the counsel she was given?”

“That I do,” the Roegadyn replies, ever so gently, “Plagued with a nearby primal and the chaos it may bring, she dreaded the days after word of a summoning reached her. Refusing to sleep, she steeled herself to watch the sun rise, out of fear that she would not bear witness to another…Through those sleepless nights, she penned me a letter, beseeching me for aid.”

The Elder Seedseer continues the story, “You traveled here to speak with her, did you not?”

“It seemed the only wise choice,” shrugged the Admiral, “Though the task of rebuilding weighed heavily on us both, it was my vow to aid her, should she need it…and I am not wont to break a vow.”

Something about the last phrase sent the tiniest sense of delight through the Elder Seedseer…her smile grew as the Admiral continued regaling her with the familiar tale.

“I spoke to her of my knowledge, gleaned from the shores of Vylbrand, where the dread serpent Leviathan plagued our waters and plunged an entire hamlet into the sea with a single tidal wave…Full well did I understand her apprehension. Should she be left to her own thoughts, she would soon succumb to them—I assured her: no matter the storm she faces, she need not weather it alone.”

“Those words put her at ease once again, after too many of her own thoughts clouded her mind…” the smaller woman speaks again, “Though five years have passed, ever has she treasured those words since. On that day, she bore witness to the sunrise with the Admiral, and wondered no longer if it would be the last she would ever see. She discovered that she and the Admiral were not so different. No longer did she see simply an ally…but a friend, as well.”

“Yet here we are again.” the Admiral looks to the sky, painted with the faintest bits of dawn, “My vow to her still stands, so long as I draw breath…and I have returned to Gridania for the selfsame reason. Though the primal threat may have vanished, her worries for the future would not disappear as easily. I cannot help but wonder what she is thinking…”

Her tight grip on the memory of five years ago fades with the Admiral’s return, she finds. She is reliving it, in a sense, but something is different this time. She has an inkling as to what that is, but, despite the difference, her chest does not feel so tight anymore. Her hands have slowed their trembling…and she can finally step into the present with her emotions.

“She fears for the future of the Alliance,” the Elder Seedseer admits, “She wishes for it to be united, yet it continues to drift apart. The Elementals have voiced their tales of the Lord of Levin’s trial…and yet, while she knows he will not harm Gridania, she is ill at ease nevertheless. The days yet to come hold too much uncertainty.”

“Aye, that they do…” the Roegadyn replies; the Padjal feels the Admiral’s gaze upon her, but keeps her eyes to the ground, watching the flowing water below her, “But it is as you say—the days ahead have yet to be seen. We know not what tomorrow holds, that much is true…perhaps because the sun has only begun to rise.”

She points to the sky, glowing ever brighter by the minute. And, while it should have given her vigor, the mere sight of the dawn causes the Elder Seedseer’s exhaustion to slowly catch up with her…Or perhaps it is the presence of the Admiral standing beside her that lets her know she is allowed to rest. Despite her fatigue, she looks away from the ground and to the colors of the sunrise, the slightest bits of light beginning to color the foliage once again…

Whether it was her lack of energy or the fact that she was not alone, she cared little of it. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop smiling into the dawn…somehow, her smile turns wider, until she cannot help but utter a laugh or three. The Admiral looks to her, probably wondering what could possibly be funny about a sunrise, but relieved at the Padjal’s sudden change of heart; she’s not afraid to look back at her ally anymore, reaching for the other woman’s hand and holding it tightly, her body slowly leaning towards the Admiral’s.

“You have my thanks,” she smiles gently, “Tell me, Merlwyb…Your acquaintance…How does she fare…?”

“Ah, yes…an odd story, that,” Merlwyb remarks, somewhat playfully, “She has done admirably these five years, despite the challenges we may face…however, somewhere between the many correspondences and the visits to Gridania before dawn, I fell in love with her…Which I had not planned on, mind you. But she was kindly and gentle…She grew more beautiful as I watched her become who she is today—who wouldn’t be taken with her? …While there are things we dread about the future, it tends to bring many other surprises along the way, I find…Do you not think so, Kan-E?”

Kan-E can feel her face redden at her lover’s description of her, but she has grown to not mind it…It is a welcome thing to be loved, rather than dreading for what is to come.

She lets go of the Admiral’s hand and instead embraces her from the side, gently and with a bit of joyful exhaustion…she stays this way for a few moments, unable to think of an answer, but decides that words do not need to be used. Instead, she reaches up and pulls ever so slightly at the Admiral’s sleeve, a sign Merlwyb knows well. She looks around a bit—just to make sure no one else is around—and answers Kan-E’s gesture by bending down a bit so she is at a better, lower height. The Padjal hesitates, if only for a moment, but closes her eyes and lightly presses her lips against the Admiral’s.

There is something about kissing Merlwyb right then and there, she notices; somewhere, among the short breaths in between and the slight, sweet taste of salt air on the Admiral’s lips, her fears disappear. And she loves every moment of this feeling, this closeness, this warmth, loves everything about it. She would rather not stop, rather not let go, but her flushed face and breathless body tell her otherwise.

The Admiral must understand this, because she does not move back very far, leaning her forehead gently on the Elder Seedseer’s as their eyes flutter back open—first Merlwyb, and then Kan-E.

“Would that you knew,” Kan-E murmurs, smiling, “Just how much she loves you in return.”

She surprises Merlwyb by stealing just one more kiss before the Admiral straightens her back again, glad for her presence here, and glad that she has a new memory to keep. She leans against the Admiral once more, drowsier than she remembers, and cannot help but close her eyes again, despite the coming sunlight filtering through the trees…

—————————

Kan-E wakes the next morning to find Merlwyb beside her in bed, holding her tightly as if she were the most precious of treasures.

And she doesn’t see herself so fearful of the future anymore.


End file.
